


Autmun Rain

by KangKorandKoloth



Series: Four Seasons [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KangKorandKoloth/pseuds/KangKorandKoloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d risen early and left her asleep on his futon, stepping into the morning light without looking back.<br/>Set just before the Fake Karakura Town Battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autmun Rain

He’d risen early and left her asleep on his futon, stepping into the morning light without looking back.

Nanao noticed his absence the second she awoke; his arms were no longer wrapped around her, the spot where he had lain despairingly empty and cold.

It was still dark by most people’s standards, though the weak Autumnal light was grudgingly beginning to shine through the window. She didn't want to get up, not yet anyway and rolled into the middle of the futon, cocooning herself in the covers. The bed smelt like his cologne, it clung to the sheets a constant reminder that he’d been there with her not long before, stirring up her emotions. She yoyo’d between comfort at the familiar scent and misery at the memory of his absence, wishing they’d had more time before he’d gone, or at least more notice.

Twelve hours had never gone by so quickly. They’d been expecting orders to dispatch but no-one could have anticipated he’d be expected to leave so soon after they were issued or that she would be ordered to stay behind. Shell-shocked was the only way to describe it.

For those left behind today was to be quiet; with so many of the senior officers absent, normality ground to a halt. It was for the best she thought, there was no-one to miss her if she stayed here a bit longer. It wouldn't matter if she wasn't at the office and she doubted anyone would check her empty room with its evidence of her absence the night before. If he’d have been there, he wouldn't have minded her staying; in fact he’d have encouraged it. She could almost see him there coaxing her back to bed, trying to persuade her everything else could wait. Today she would have agreed without hesitation; she would have stayed there all day if it meant he would have been by her side once again. Perhaps she should have done so more often.

She hadn't expected him to say goodbye, they had done that in their own way the night before. Once the order had been given, so much later in the day than these things normally were, his room had been the first place she’d gone, needing to see him, half fearing he’d already be gone when she got there.

He’d welcomed her in and held her close, closer than anyone had ever held her before. Drawing her in, whispering declarations of love and longing into her shoulder over and over again, saying he’d miss her, bestowing sweet kisses and so many other tiny tactile gestures showing her how glad he was she was there. It was a cluttered disorganized set of actions brought on by lack of time and the basic need to keep the ones you love close in times of trouble.

“Please come back” is all she’d been able to muster in response to his pronouncements, her voice small, just about keeping in check its waiver. She hadn't wanted his send off, possibly his last memory of her to feature eyes sore from crying and a quivering lower lip.

He hadn't been able to answer her, both of them knowing he wouldn't make her a promise he couldn't keep as much as she wouldn't plead with him to stay. This was his job. As much as he might want to stay he wouldn't, not even if she’d fallen to her knees and begged. There were some loyalties that trumped anything else, this was one of them.

“Come on Nanao; don’t be like that” he’d told her, bluffing and distracting trying to keep her mind off the inevitable.

His tactics would work for a little while; she’d allow herself to relax, succumbing to his touch or the honeyed words in her ear, distancing herself from harsh realities and imminent partings. It wouldn't last though; subtle things would betray his bravado, like his smile not reaching his eyes, which at any other time would sparkle with mirth at the the mere idea of a joke, or the ghost of a frown resting on his face when he thought she wasn't looking. It was more than enough to drag her back to reality with an anxious knot in her stomach.

It was worse once the light had burnt out and he’d fallen asleep; his head resting on her chest pinning her to the futon making it difficult to move. She was alone with her thoughts then, every doubt, every fear playing out silently in her mind, with no-way for him to stop them. It’d been the dead of night when she’d mercifully drifted into a fitful sleep.

Even if there was nothing left to say, she reflected, clutching the covers closer to her, wanting to hide there until everything went away; she would have liked to see him off. To have had one last glimpse of him, in case the worst happened. A vice tightened around her heart at the mere idea of him not returning. If she were honest, that worst case scenario scared her more than the idea of facing the enemy.

He had gone to war. Call it what you may, the winter showdown, the final battle, when you brought it back to the bare bones, he had gone to war. Not everyone came back from wars and those who did might not come back in one piece. It wouldn't have been the first time she’d lost a comrade, but it was the first time she was facing losing a lover.

Laying there consumed by her own melancholy, she wondered if it had begun yet. There was a sort of helplessness to being left behind she conceded. The whole idea of knowing nothing about what was going on out there and being able to do nothing to assist even if she did smarted, dragging her mood lower still. Better to be at risk but useful than outside of the front lines and powerless. There was plenty she could have done and yet here she was, the only Lieutenant left behind while her comrades risked their lives. It hardly seemed fair.

She was fully awake now, her eyes still heavy and tender from lack of sleep. It was doing her no good to keep lying here, restless and pensive. Any other day she’d have been up by now, the bell had chimed 9 o’clock a while ago.

Pulling herself into a sitting position she went through the motions of getting up, stretching stiffened muscles and searching out her glasses from where ever they’d been left the night before. The air was cold and goosebumps rose on her forearms, making her want to slip back under the covers if only for the warmth. Shivering, she picked up the blue haori she’d worn the night before from where it’d been discarded, draping it over her thin sleeping robe and rubbing her arms trying to generate heat. She was up now there was no point in going backwards.

Finally she found her glasses on the desk and put them on, clearer vision doing nothing to improve her mood. Under them she found the letter, lovingly placed where he’d known she’d find it; her name neatly spelled out in black ink across the crisp white paper. She knew what it was on sight and snatched it up wondering why he had chosen to leave it there of all places.

It was the third one of these he’d written since she’d been in the squad, the second while she had served as Lieutenant. The standard last will and testament of a commanding officer, detailing next of kin, last wishes and letters for any loved ones left behind. It was something expected of any senior officer being sent on a mission from where return was unlikely.

The last time he’d needed to write one of these he’d given it to her at the office as it was the Lieutenant’s job to keep hold of it and act as executor should the worst occur. It had seemed oddly formal for such a personal document and although she couldn't quite explain it he’d seemed almost reluctant to hand it over to her. She’d never asked but had often wondered if this uncharacteristic attitude had something to do with the contents.

This time was different. A lot had happened since then, there’d been the shift in their relationship for one thing and she’d actually assumed he’d have been happier to give it to her this time. Surely they had few secrets from each other now? Nanao couldn't understand why he’d left it for her to find rather than just handing it over, it didn't make sense.

The whole thing felt heavy, like too much had been stuffed in the envelope. It made her think, just how many letters had he seen fit to write?

She knew he had some family, a mother, father and brother at least, presuming he’d want to write to them. It struck her she knew very little about his family, she’d never even asked. A pang of regret mixed with the anxiety in her gut, she may never get the chance now. She should have asked him last night, when they were talking about nothing in particular, trying to avoid the inevitable break of dawn. Would he have told her if she had? He’d never mentioned them before, maybe he hadn't wanted to. Perhaps he hid more from her than she thought.

Then there were, of course, the close friends he had within the Seireitei. She could think of at least two or three people who he’d want to say goodbye to. Most of these were with him on the battle field now and had no doubt left letters for him as well.

Maybe none of them would get to read these missives, she could imagine letters intended for the deceased left forgotten in drawers never to be read as both sender and recipient were no longer there. Just how many times had that happened she mused, it was tragic to think of all those heart felt words left to gather dust, or worse thrown away like they meant nothing at all. For many, those last few words would have been the most precious.

“Get some sleep” Was the last thing he’d said to her before doing exactly that himself.

“I will, sleep well” she’d replied, tenderly kissing his cheek, silently praying this wouldn't be the last one.

The last words she may ever hear from his mouth were a banal instruction spoken out of concern. Three simple words, it hardly seemed enough now she properly considered it. Not that what she’d said was really any better. It was ordinary, indistinct from a conversation they’d have had on any other evening; it didn't sum up the gravitas of his leaving. It felt messy, unfinished.

She may not have expected a goodbye from him but seeing the letter and speculating at the contents hit home subconsciously just how badly she’d wanted it. She craved the closure, the finality that would have come with that conversation, becoming irrationally angry that he’d deprived her of it. If the roles had been reversed, she’d have made sure he wasn't left like this. She’d have woken him, whether he liked it or not and left him in no doubt. She would have spelled out how much she loved him and how she didn't want to go but had to. No doubt he’d wanted to protect her from that, from the hurt it might cause. She wished to God he hadn't.

Nanao didn't want to think about whether there was a letter for her as well. It felt odd that the very thing she needed from him might be in her hands right now just waiting for her to open it up and read.

Even though she knew that the package shouldn't be opened until they had news from the front confirming the worst, she had to admit the temptation to look was there. She ignored the irksome little voice in the peripheries of her brain, wheedling about how one little look wouldn't hurt, telling herself that even if she did look it wouldn't change anything, he’d still be gone, it wouldn't bring him back to her just yet.

“Not everyone comes back from war,” the voice reminded her.

The words were like a chant echoing within, she didn't need reminding of this she raged, knowing exactly what she was set to lose.

She gently ran her finger under the envelope’s seal, feeling the thickness of the paper bump across the grooves in her fingerprint. It would come open easily she thought, could probably be sealed again just as easily too. Did she dare?

“Go on,” the voice murmured, “who would know but you. What’s the point in waiting when you know you’ll be opening it sooner or later anyway?”

It would be so easy just to hook her finger under that seal and have it open, spilling the contents for her to behold. She could do it now, one small movement of a couple of millimeters and it would be done before she could think any further about it. She could feel a surge of adrenaline, her mind urging her on, instinct warning this might not be such a good idea. If she was going to do it, she just needed to take that plunge.

A sudden stab of pain shot through her finger bringing her back to reality with a nasty bump. She’d managed to give herself a paper cut. Wincing at the wound Nanao placed the envelope back on the desk and tried to stop the bleeding. It was a sign she shouldn't be doing this she thought, these weren't her thoughts to pry on, if he’d have wanted her to open it, he would have told her and she had no right to decide otherwise.

Trying to get a hold of herself, she slid the letter into the sleeve of her haori, placating any other thoughts with empty comfort, telling herself nothing had been decided yet. There wasn't anything to say he wouldn't come back, he was strong there was every reason to say he would be victorious. Once he was back safe and well, she would wonder why these thoughts had ever bothered her.

Admittedly, the shift in attitude helped a little and buoyed by this, she decided to file the letter in the office later. She located her clothes from the night before and shrugged them on, making a note to pop to her quarters and pick up a uniform, still reassuring herself that there was no hurry today and right now there was nothing to worry about.The anxiety was beginning to ease a bit, replaced by hunger, eating hadn't exactly been high on her agenda the previous evening; she would pass by the mess hall on the way to the office.

Leaving the room was slightly tricky, no-one knew she’d been there the night before and questions would be asked should she be seen. Thankfully no-one else seemed to be about and she was able to slip away into the barracks without incident.

Nanao made it to the office, properly dressed and fed, an hour later. Closing the door to the miserably grey sky and biting wind, she breathed in the warm, pleased to see she wasn't wrong when she thought she find the office deserted. Alone was what she wanted right now.

Filing the letter away with a sigh of relief, she began to go about her day’s work pulling down ledgers and journals from the various shelves round the room, finding ink and brush and lighting the lamp, letting it cast an uplifting glow across the room. As she was about to begin, a faint, uncertain knock came from the door. She paused, looking up from the newly opened ledger,

“Come in, it’s open” she called, breath catching in her throat, mind racing through what this unexpected caller could want.

Could it be a notification from the field? What if it was? Good news or bad? Most likely bad she decided, it wasn't like the Captain Commander would send a messenger just to let her know all was well. In that case, could it be? Oh God. Could it be?

Nanao’s heart pounded; the sound of blooding rushing in her ears, quickening at every speculation. She felt sick, after everything she’d told herself, was it all really coming true? If this was worst, what was she going to do?

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to pull herself together before whomever it was entered. The last thing she wanted was to be caught out pale and shaking at the fear of news she hadn't even heard yet.The knock came again, slightly louder this time still hesitant. She frowned thinking the person behind the disturbance couldn't have heard her. Rising from her seat, she opened the door to find one of the newer recruits standing there looking slightly overwhelmed, in her hand what looked like a memo. They looked at each other for a second each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Nanao broke the awkward silence, wanting this messenger to spit it out and leave her to her desolation.

“What can I do for you?”

The messenger seemed to relax at not having to speak first,

“Lieutenant Ise, I was asked to pass this onto you”

she held out her hand, offering Nanao the memo. She took it realizing it was not in fact a memo but a letter.

“Thank you,”

Her task completed, the girl seemed eager to leave. Nanao tried to organize her face into a kind smile as she dismissed her. They’d all been there at some point; it wasn't easy approaching those in command.

As the messenger scurried away, Nanao shut the door and returned to her desk, the ledger forgotten. Her full name and rank were printed on the envelope in formal, unfamiliar hand writing. Confused, she tore it open, scooping out the five or six pieces of paper keen to see what exactly this was, trying to keep the panic at bay. She reassured herself that if the worst had happened then she would have received much more than a letter. It was more probable these were orders to be carried out in her Captain’s absence.

She scanned the first few words, heart in her mouth, bracing herself, and dropped the few papers back onto the desk in shock. She read them again, properly this time, making sure she was really reading it right.

_Last will and Testament of Kyoraku Jiro Sozosuke Shunsui– 31st October 2001_

This was the letter. This one, the one casually handed over as an almost after thought by a member of the squad. Did he forget to pass it on? Knowing him, it was plausible.

If the letter she held in her hands was the will, then what had she filed away? She opened the drawer and fished it out, viewing it with suspicion; for once she was lost for an explanation. The only way to solve this now was to open it. She laughed bitterly, thinking back to just how much she’d tried to avoid this a while ago, before tearing open the envelope and removing the contents.

In her hands she held a single sheet of paper and some sort of wooden case, feather light and slender. She wasn't surprised she’d mistaken it for paper; it looked like it might snap, cracking and splintering if handled roughly. 

Putting the paper aside for a moment, she undid the catch on the case letting it swing open to reveal a hairpin nestled in cloth. She picked it up, admiring its intricacy; a dragonfly forged in silver, wings lacquered midnight blue. It was breathlessly beautiful. Nanao couldn't take her eyes off it as she gently turned it one way and another letting in catch and refract in the light.

She gently slid it into her hair, worried it might break if handled the wrong way and wished she had a mirror to see how it looked. He’d known she wanted a new hair pin. Nanao was surprised he’d even remembered a fleeting remark from over a week ago, a note to herself more than conversation. It was such a generous gift and she felt an involuntary smile wash over her at his thoughtfulness.

Still smiling she turned her attention to the paper and unfolded it curious as to what he’d written.

Three lines of few words were printed in immaculate handwriting. she devoured them with a grateful eagerness, relieved at having something no matter how small to keep with her.

_My dear Nanao,_

_Until we meet again. Keep the faith and know that I love you_

_Shunsui_

He’d never promised to come back and in those few sacred words he still hadn't. She could accept that. She could stay strong too; it was a comfort to know he felt she had that strength within her to do that for him. That someone on the battle field needed her for something she could do from here. She would stay strong, for him and for herself whatever the outcome.

The smile remained, fears banished resolve bolstered.

Folding the letter back up, Nanao slipped it inside her uniform keeping it close to her heart. She had her work to do, starting with resealing the will opened up in error. The envelope was beyond repair. She could find another one but would have some explaining to do about the lack of writing on it. If she were more familiar with it she might have risked a forgery. At the moment it was an insignificant issue. With any luck, it could be a funny anecdote she could mention upon his return. 

The sky outside grumbled and the soft patter of rain on rooftops could be heard. No wonder it was so cold, she thought. It was really was the end of Autumn. A few more days and winter would truly be upon them. The snow would come soon too. She hoped he would be back for then so they could see it together. For now she would sit and wait, keeping the faith and hoping for the best.


End file.
